A Nation, Divided
by SevenFlags
Summary: The Doctor stumbles upon the 74th Annual Reapings in District 12; but what horrifies him the most is that he knows the only way to end the Hunger Games is to become a part of making them happen in the first place. T for violence and some bloody scenes.
1. The Ground Beneath his Feet

**- (The story begins here.)**

**Doctor's P.O.V for the first two chapters or so, I'll get into writing from Katniss and Peeta's P. from Chapter 3 onwards, if I decide to continue this. I hope that if anyone reviews they will be generous enough to give me support and tips on the story and how to write for them, and not flame me to a charred stump. I'm not going to try and make you laugh with tasteless humour either, just go ahead and read ;) -**

Chapter 1 - _The Ground beneath His feet_

Where grass had once danced around with the breeze for miles in every direction, those emerald-tinged blades now existed in a state of decay, blackened and trampled. The soil from which they grew was dry and infertile.

Though the sun blazed through the sky at what must have been an extortionately high temperature, there were no clouds to be seen. Rain had long-since been a luxury lost to the world.

Trees, plants, wildlife, actual life had become lost.

Trees were merely cracked and burnt, poky fingers without life that stretched from the ground.

Plants were no more than stubs of brown "greenery", shrivelled like prunes and dead like a corpse.

The year was 2254. The O-zone layer had finally succumbed to years of damage, and radiating light from the sun exploded through the barrier and scorched the earth like never before. The famine, poverty, and war that followed left the Earth in an indisputable state of disarray - that was thirteen years ago, in 2241.

Thirteen years on, and most of civilisation had run from the planet - Starship UK had fled on the back of the Beast, carrying with it a huge metallic mass of cities and zones, carrying the entire population of the United Kingdom. Many other ships likes this were made to evacuate countries and their populaces, but Starship UK was the last to leave.

In their desperate situation, with the world having run out of engines big enough to carry the weight of 80 million people, the Beast, the last living Star Whale, a bioluminescent being thousands of kilometres across, came to absolve the sounds of a thousand crying children. The greedy, desperate humans, however, took advantage of its kindness, and strapped the Star Whale to the underside of their lifeless ship and rode it to safety.

And so the Earth's population had depleted to merely 17 Million - certainly, it would increase later when the atmosphere stabilised. But for hundreds, thousands of years, the people of Earth roamed space looking for a new home.

* * *

The Doctor's TARDIS materialised softly and silently in an empty field, in what had once been a small town called Thorner in the county of Yorkshire. With a creak, he stepped through the doors of his time ship, onto the dry earth beneath his feet.

He breathed heavily and removed his tweed jacket, tossing it back into the TARDIS, and loosened the braces over his shirt, taken aback by the unnatural heat.

He gazed over the remnants of the place with an expression that was a mixture of both sadness and relief.

"Missed the famine and drought then...I suppose that's a plus..." he commented to himself sadly, seating himself on a bench. It was almost covered completely in dead leaves, standing next to what was once a public footpath. The sun was bearing so hot, he already started to feel a film of sweat cling to him. He looked to the left. Then he looked to the right. There wasn't a bird, a squirrel, a rabbit, in sight or sound. There wasn't even a breeze.

'_The Earth is dead_', he decided. And it was.

Once, it had been a planet renowned by the people living around the Sun's neighbouring stars as one full of life and frivolity, be that of war or of peace, and although he knew it would grow back with time, seeing it like this, the Doctor's favourite planet having become merely a shell, hurt him. Very deep.

After his own planet had burnt to a core, Earth had become a second home. The Doctor realised, with a caught breath, that the Earth looked like it was following the same route.

He shook the thought from his head.

'_Stop being silly, you daft old man,_' he told himself. '_It comes back, you know it does. It always comes back._'

He sighed sadly and simply sat.

The Doctor was on, as he called it, his "Victory Lap of the Universe", mostly to procrastinate the certainty of his imminent death. He sighed, seeing the words on the TARDIS databank in his mind once more, as he had thousands of times over the last 200 years of his tour of the cosmos; "Name: _The Doctor_. Birthdate: _Unknown_. Deathdate: _5th April 2011, Silencio Lake, Utah._ Cause of death: _Regeneration._"

He always found that part ironic. In the biology of a Time Lord, their DNA accounted for a type of cell, like a flush, that sent a wave through their body that causes them to spontaneously regenerate themselves to an almost factory setting-like state. During this process, permanent aspects of their brain, such as memories and knowledge, were sustained, but in order to keep the body alive, appearance, personality and character traits are rejuvenated. Effectively, Regeneration is a body swap, swapping an old one for the new, meaning that Time Lords have the ability to survive an otherwise fatal wound or even death, by changing their cellular structure.

It was sad, then, that if a second fatal wound was blown to a Time Lord during the intial process of biological regeneration, the regenerating cells would be destroyed in their vulnerable state, and the Time Lord's consciousness would be lost. The finality of death in a process of new life.

The Doctor remembered a song he had heard once, and recently discovered it was an account of his death.

_"Tick, tock, goes the clock,_

_Summer's gone away._

_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_

_so what, now, shall we play?_

_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_

_what then, shall we see?_

_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_

_that thou shalt marry me._

_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_

_and all the years, they fly._

_Tick, tock, and all too soon,_

_You and I must die._

_Tick, tock, goes the clock, he cradles her and rocks her._

_Tick, tock, goes the clock, t'wen River killed the doctor."_

He shivered - the song always gave him shivers. Of course, he realised the connotations of "River killed the doctor". River. His River.

After what seemed like merely a moment of being sat on that bench, he noticed that the sun had begun to set. He looked around him once more, wondering why he had chosen to come here. It was 2304. Starship UK had left the Earth fifty years ago, and he knew that some time in the 33rd century, 900 years on in relative time, he would be on that ship with Amy, his companion, and his best friend. He found it ironic that his first adventure in this, his Eleventh body, had been then, yet here he was now, knowing he was heading straight for his death, his final exit, no Twelfth body.

"Stop being a martyr," he told himself. And so he did.

He strolled back to the TARDIS, his forehead shimmering with a layer of sweat from the sun that blazed hot even as it set. Thankfully, the metallic-organic cool of the Console Room in the TARDIS was enough to bring him back to a normal temperature.

He tripped over his tweed jacket.

* * *

"What do you mean, _YOU'RE UPDATING!_" the Doctor wailed at the Console, frustrated. His annoyance hazed whatever hum of reply may have been given, and he turned straight to a control panel like he wasn't expecting one. The TARDIS was refusing to dematerialise, and the most the Doctor knew was that it was "updating".

Updating what, he had yet to figure out.

A tiny bell rang out, and the lights surrounding the circular screen on one wall fluttered, reflecting a dazzling light show across the bronzed floor. The Doctor, a flurry of gangly limbs and floppy hair, grabbed the railing surrounding the console and spun it until the monitor was facing him.

"Update complete. Geographical plans are renewed," the Doctor murmured. He read it again, and then a third time. It made no sense to him. "What Geographical plans...?" He spoke quietly, under his breath, tapping the keyboard without taking his eyes from the screen.

On the round monitor in the wall, a map of the earth blinked up from the desktop. It zoomed to a picture of what the Doctor recognised as the United States. He noticed, however, that it's new official designation was "Panem", and his sharp, Time Lord eyes noticed a few structural changes as well, such as a change in the size of the Appalachian mountain range, and a few square kilometres of land on the eastern seaboard had depleted into the ocean. He found this strange.

"That's strange."

He bit his lip and cocked his head with interest.

"Panem? Panem. Panem. Panem." He repeated the word but it didn't ring familiar. "Where did that come from?"

He checked the TARDIS databank, but the most plausible reason he could conjure was that it had appeared from some kind of alternate timeline, perhaps an after effect from when the Universe had been rebooted early in his Eleventh incarnation.

Upon reaching this conclusion, a grin broke out onto his face, lighting up his features with a yearn to learn.

"Oh, lemme see!" he exclaimed gleefully, and he yanked a lever to his right.

As the glass column in the centre of the Time Rotor rose and fell - an indication of the TARDIS engines in flight - the Doctor studied a map on the monitor. Formerly the United States, after the first great Solar Storm period that caused many of the Earth's population to flee, the USA had broken into a civil war over a fight for survival and resources. Eventually, from what he could gather, the whole country collapsed.

But then "The Capitol", a huge, technologically-rich city in the remnants of the Rocky Mountains began to accumulate a populace, and the survivors of the Americas gathered in 13 "Districts", areas of a civilised gathering, each with a population of thousands.

It seemed they lived in a state of interdependence - each district provided something, coal, fish, electronics, to The Capitol, and in return The Capitol provided food and protection, etc. '_How very nifty,' he thought._

_With a final groan of engine movement, the TARDIS announced to its only occupant that it had arrived. The monitor flashed with details. The Doctor only barely glanced at it before he raced to the door, giddy with excitement._

_Earth._

_Panem._

_The Capitol._

* * *

_**- Review if you can! Or at least do one of the other actions, aside from 'Report for Abuse'. If you don't like it, review and tell me why :) Or even send me an inbox, but reviews are better for the old reputation, I'm sure you all know how it works. :) -**  
_


	2. They Stared with Hate in Their Eyes

- **The Doctor will meet the Hunger Games characters (not meet, but he arrives at their dwelling) in this chapter :) Enough from me ;) -**

Chapter 2 - Sidelined

Before he could open the doors, the TARDIS lurched - a deafening thud echoed throughout the room, and the TARDIS took flight once more.

From his vantage point from the floor, where he'd tripped over the coat stand, the Doctor guessed that they'd hit some kind of barrier. He rushed to the console, attacking various buttons and controls before the console went berserk. He pulled it back into orbit and tried to land again - the same result.

"What's wrong? Better scan...hope I'm in the right place..." He initiated the scanner. The year was 2391. 150 years into the future from where he'd come. He sighed.

According to the TARDIS, there was a temporal current running through Panem at this point. It looked around 75-76 years strong, and as to the Doctor's knowledge, usually indicated some kind of Time-Locked event. He instructed the TARDIS to land in the nearest-possible safe spot, without interfering with the timeline in any way.

Surprisingly calmly, the engines came to life and the glass column rose and fell, until it landed in the 12th District. 12th of 12, the Doctor noticed, whereas there had been 13 before.

Straightening his jacket and making sure his bow tie was as cool as ever, the Doctor grasped the handle on the door with a tentative hand, pulling gently to find that it swung open without a hitch.

He stepped outside - twigs crunched underneath his boots. He was immediately hit by a smell of ripe soil and dew. A green forest surrounded him for miles. And it filled him with glee.

Bending down, he took a pinch of soil and dabbed it on his tongue. His frow creased pensively. He licked his finger and stuck it in the air, and deduced that the forest was somewhere in the Appalachian mountains, which meant that District 12 was nearby.

A quick stroll through the woods quickly assured him that he was probably lost, hopelessly. The Doctor's boots, thankfully, were thick and sturdy enough not to be punctured by any of the pebbles or sharp roots sticking out of the earth, but being a gangly person who often forgot his left and right, he couldn't help but stumble with every left turn here, and trip unexpectedly after every second tree stump there.

The pattern of leaves in the trees allowed just enough light to simmer through to produce a prison bar effect, which gave the Doctor the feeling that he was being closed in. He was about to give up and fashion a makeshift GPS with a spare ruby in his pocket and various woodland foliage, when he spotted a glitch in the pattern of forest - a clearing through the thirsty brown barks enclosing him.

He 'hmph'-ed victoriously and meandered towards the light, but soon found himself cut off by an electrified fence.

Or at least, it was supposed to be. He scanned with the sonic screwdriver to make sure, but he needn't have - there was no hum in the immediate area, nothing to suggest the flow of electrons from metal bar to chain link, from power cell to power cell. He used the sonic screwdriver's principle setting to vibrate a few screws around one of the posts, which alleviated the chains just enough to allow his lanky form to slide through unscathed. He glanced back cautiously, wondering if the TARDIS would be safe.

But he knew better than to think anything here could break down those doors.

Soon, he found himself in what he could only describe as a small mining village - he knew there were coal mines in this region, and he could see various pollutes of smoke rising from around the hills, and his Time Lord sense of sight-smell association knew immediately that it came from burnt coal.

However, the houses lined into streets everywhere were ramshackle, and looked only barely put together. He could liken it to a cross breed of refugee camp and a town from the middle ages.

Also, it came to his attention that nobody was in sight - not a single person in the whole valley could he see. He poked around the meagre setting for a while, all the time his doubt of the poverty apparent here slipping away.

But he knew something was wrong, or at least that the atmosphere was entirely apprehensive and fearful when he came upon a square.

He assumed that the young girls and boys that were lined in formation were the populace, and the adults and older folk around them were also. In front of a large building, a stage had been built, lights and cameras had been trained upon it. A woman in ridiculously fashionable attire and a strange wig was addressing the crowd, and she was taking a slip of paper from a glass bowl.

What caught his eye, though, was the teenage girl who was standing by her side. She looked around 16-17 years old, from his guess, and her hair was tied back into some kind of pattern that he couldn't see. Her eyes weren't puffy, but they were glazed, almost traumatised. He didn't need to be a Time Lord to spot that from 100 paces.

The woman returned to a microphone and gleefully opened a small slip of paper. The crowd drew a collective breath, and the woman read a name: "Peeta Mellark."

What the Doctor saw next confused him - the reaction was a mixture of fear and relief, but everyone was still upset. But one young man, not too tall but wide-shouldered and probably strong under normal circumstances, had started to shift through the crowd, and he looked almost pitifully petrified as he took shaky steps towards the stage.

No-one spoke.

The fashionable woman muttered words of encouragement and beckoned him up the stairs. She seemed entirely oblivious to the agonisingly silent atmosphere. He wondered why this was. He also wondered what was happening. He was about to move closer to the stage, when he noticed the men in the white suits, with guns strapped to their waists. He decided he didn't like them very much immediately.

"Our Tributes from District 12, Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen!"

The woman spoke with glee, but it fell on deaf ears - the two teenagers forced themselves to shake their hands, but their eyes betrayed the fact to him that whatever was happening, it was seen locally as some kind of death sentence.

They were terrified, and his natural, instinctive desire to help wanted to know why.

Soon, the woman ushered them through the doors of the big building, and the slammed shut with an air of finality. Immediately the crowd became active - people were clutching to their loved ones and searching for ones they couldn't see. Others wiped tears and glared at the stage with hate in their eyes.

He decided to walk up to a woman and ask what has happened.

"Excuse me," he said, "but I'm slightly confused; what just happened? I'm not from around here?"

The woman merely gave him a look of complete disgust and carried on her way. The Doctor curled his tongue and accepted the response. He asked around a few more times, and he was about to ask one of the armed men.

But suddenly, he felt himself being yanked backwards, and strong hands clamped over his eyes, and it was all he could do to comply as he was dragged, before he blacked out.

* * *

**- Not much of a cliffhanger, but you'll see how it is if you want more :) Review! It's why I write! Why you read! To have an opinion! :) -**


	3. The Justice Building And Beyond

**Chapter 3 The Justice Building (And Beyond)**

When he bobbed back around, the Doctor either was blindfolded or had lost the ability to open his eyelids. He didn't register he'd still been moving until he was shoved harshly into an uncomfortable wooden chair, and felt rather put off by the sudden lack of motion. He knew resisting anything at this point would be futile, and allowed a rough length of rope to be tied around his hands, which were then handcuffed to the backrest.

"If you'd like a chat then all this tomfoolery is really a bit unnecessary. Just get a few Jammy Dodgers and some iced tea, then we can talk it over, eh?" The Doctor knew it would fall on uninterested ears, and the sound of retreating footsteps behind the already closed door proved him right.

He couldn't tell if they'd taken the Sonic Screwdriver, but then again, he wouldn't be able to reach it anyway. Just to be sure, he pulled on his hands. A shot of pain flashed through his arm and he stopped immediately.

His arms had been twisted and tied so that pulling on them would pressure them to bend. If the rope didn't restrict him enough, the metal cuffs on his wrists would hold him anyway. He then realised he could use his feet if he had to, even blind, but he played dumb just to be safe.

After a few more minutes - so he imagined - he heard the door being unlocked, and the Doctor identified three sets of heavy boot steps. Someone pulled on his handcuffs just to be sure, and suddenly the blindfold was whipped away, and harsh sunlight invaded his eyes.

When he'd adjusted, he made out three figures wearing the white uniform he'd seen in the square.

"Hi!" The Doctor exclaimed, hoping to catch them off guard. Two of the White Men continued to stand without moving, and their expressions didn't falter. The third, a man in his late thirties with a weathered face, sniffed harshly and gazed into him.

"Name?"

His voice sounded hoarse and disinterested.

"Name...a fruit?" the Doctor replied. "Apples, Pears, Pomegranates, Dragon Fruit, Ki-"

The man ripped away his black glove and slugged the Doctor with a swift right hook, which he wasn't really miffed to say he didn't see coming. The Doctor turned back around, his left cheek turning purple like a plum.

"How polite," the Doctor scorned, and he didn't bother hiding his contempt. "Really, I was just having a bit of fun. Perhaps you should try being more particular."

The man narrowed his eyes and repeated the question.

"My name," the Doctor started, "is no business of yours. But you can call me the Doctor, if you want. Not that I imagine we'll be spending much time with each other..."

The man took a step towards him and grabbed a chair, swivelling it around and straddling it backwards. "My name is Korbis, I'm one of the regional Peacekeepers employed by the Capitol-"

"So you're like a policeman?" The Doctor interjected.

"-to enforce the law and keep peace between the citizens of the District. If you can tell me you know what that means then we'll untie you and send you away with as much of anything as you want."

The Doctor knew what game Korbis was playing with him - he'd seen it done many times before and had even had to practise the method himself on a few occasions.

"It means that I'm going to be let off with a clip around the ear and a stern word for the future?" He replied with a touch of hope, but Korbis could tell he was mocking him. This made him grin.

"Sorry "Doctor", but I'm afraid that wasn't the answer we were looking for. So listen here; we're going to keep you here with us until the Reaping Day ends, and then we'll take you on the train to the Captiol. Is that...okay with you, Doc?"

The Doctor's eye twitched.

"Just 'The Doctor' is fine, actually. And yes, that's fine, all good. Or we could go now if you want? I'll even walk ahead so you can see me at all times?"

Korbis laughed. "Nice try. Now keep quiet, or you might end up going into that arena yourself."

As the three of them left, the Doctor pondered his last words. What was this arena? He wondered if it had anything to do with Reaping Day. He considered that Reaping was an old-fashioned word for 'Selection', and remembered the two young teenagers he'd seen plucked out of the crowd.

They'd looked pretty scared.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a woman in completely black attire and a mask flew into the room like a shot. She took a knife and slashed at the rope, and then reached into his jacket pocket and took out the Sonic Screwdriver, which they must have left. In no time, she broke the handcuffs and grabbed him roughly, pulling him towards the door.

"Quickly, Doctor. Left at the end, you've got to run. Take the TARDIS and follow the train to the Capitol. Go before the alarm sounds. I'll see you soon," she blurted authoritatively, and kissed him on the cheek.

The Doctor was dumbfounded by the sudden appearance of this woman - habitually she seemed similar to River, but the Doctor knew it wasn't her because of the way she kissed him and the way she was standing - she looked apprehensive and jittery, which River never was.

"Er-erm, right, okay, I'll do that. But who are you anyway?" the Doctor asked, gazing down the corridor. He felt her lean in close behind him and she whispered something cryptic into his ear that he wasn't sure what to make of.

He crowned and turned to say "what?", but he was met with the sight of an open window.

He suddenly realised his situation. He faced an empty corridor with two or three doors leading through to different areas at uneven paces from each other. He took a few cautious steps and took his Sonic Screwdriver from his pocket, realising that his liberator must have replaced it there without I'm noticing. Talk about a ninja and you'll find one has been and gone before you can blink.

A shrill alarm shook him from his reverie, an he realised he was wasting time. What had that woman said? To the left?

He made sure to not stomp too heavily with his boots, but even with the alarm ringing through his skull it seemed like everything he was doing was going to bring a team of "Peacekeepers" - was that the term? - down on him.

He reached a left turn - it led down a similar polished-wooden corridor like the one he was already in. Somewhere down it he heard a door open, and he ducked away.

He backed up to another door and tried it.

It was locked.

He tried the next one, but it was locked too. Hearing footsteps, he knew that To run back and take a chance on finding an open door would most likely get him captured.

"Be quick, Doctor," he muttered to himself, and sprinted forwards. He took a sharp right, and knew that the cries of surprise from behind him meant he was probably going to be chased.

"Stop, stop there!"

It was one of the Peacekeepers. Coming to another turn, the Doctor risked a glance back. They were drawing their guns, and he had enough time to throw himself to the floor before a round of bullets ripped into the wall.

By the time they'd reloaded and prepped their guns, the Doctor was no-where to be seen.

***-(KPOV)-***

I'd been sitting in the chair in the corner of the room for a while, and I felt taking my Mockingjay pin and plunging it through my heart just to save everyone the time and effort.

It hadn't fully dawned on me what was happening. The last thing I could remember before the whirlwind of emotional turmoil was the look on Prim's face.

It was like a baby squirrel before it was run through by one of my arrows. It looked so wrong on her face. It wasn't even as she was going up to the stage after Effie Trinket had called her name, it was the how she'd cried "No!" when Gale had picked her up and dragged her away, or when the guard outside picked her up and did the same.

I jolted when someone burst through the door, half because I'd been lost in my memories and half because I'd been expecti-

"Quick, quick, I need somewhere to hide!"

The man in front of me all but shouted at me, even though I could tell he didn't mean to. He was wearing a bowtie, and a jacket of a material that I had never seen before. I didn't really register what he'd said because he'd taken me by surprise, and I was too caught up in my current situation, so I kind of stupidly blurted,

"What?"

He looked at me like I was a Turkey on morphling, but then his expression softened.

"I know you...you were on the stage, weren't you?" he said. I frowned at him.

"Yes," I replied. I didn't feel like talking much more. He approached me and I felt like backing away, but I'd flattened against the wall when he came through the door so I couldn't go anywhere. But to my surprise, he turned to a large cupboard to my right and opened the door.

"Excuse me for a moment, I'm just going to hide in this cupboard," he said, and ducked inside, closing the door behind him. Before I could think, he popped his head back out again.

"Are you okay? I remembered you were upset," he asked. I couldn't help but let my mouth drop open.

"Am I okay? What do YOU think?"

I couldn't help but raise my voice - had he not just said he saw me at the Reaping? He must've known I was one of the tributes of District 12, why did he even bother asking me that question?

But then I saw the look of surprise and hurt on his face, and I almost bit my lip with regret.

"I'm sorry. I'm just...well, as if you don't know how it is," I said simply. Of course he would understand.

But he just gazed at me with a confused and concerned expression. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't. But I don't like seeing people upset."

I was beginning to think he was some kind of morphling. I was about to say so, but he continued, stepping out of the closet and going to shut the door. He returned to me and grabbed my hand. He shook it softly.

"My name is the Doctor, just call me Doctor, it's what everyone calls me," he said, brightly. I wondered how he almost managed to bring a smile before I restrained it. How could I smile right now?

"Probably because it's your name. Even if it's weird," I replied to him. He didn't look offended, but he just rose one of his eyebrows. "I'm Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. And everyone calls me that," I told him, trying to instil some dry humour without even knowing why.

"Because it's your name," the Doctor replied with a smile. I didn't really know what to say, so I didn't. We both heard heavy footsteps somewhere near, and I almost jumped out of my skin.

"Are they..." I started.

"Yes, they're looking for me. I have no time to explain, because I'd have to figure out what's happening myself first, and that'd take a while because I don't know where I am," the Doctor finished.

"You're in the Justice Building," I told him. Maybe talking to this stranger could help me forget my situation for a while. It was doubtful.

He looked at me with an expression that literally said, 'that means absolutely nothing to me.'

"But how do I get _out_?" he asked, rushing over to the door and pressing his ear against it.

"Erm, I...I don't know, I wasn't really concentrating when they brought me in. I think it's a left turn when you go out but I'm not sure," I offered.

There was a sudden thud against the other side of the door. Somehow it had locked, and I wonder if it had anything to do with the shiny tube the Doctor was putting in his pocket. He tip-toed away from the door and back towards the cupboard.

"Thank you Katniss," he whispered, "I've been told I have to follow the train to the Capitol. I don't know if I'll see you again, but whatever's wrong, I hope it goes right."

He enclosed himself in the cupboard, and I was wondering what he meant - follow the train to the Capitol? I hoped he knew that the train travelled at 200mph. I didn't have time to ask before a burly Peacekeeper burst open the door, looking around.

I immediately backed up, trying to play an expression that said I didn't know why it was locked.

"It's time to go," one of them said. I nodded and pretended to turn and tie the laces of my shoe. They both turned away out of the door, giving me a second to glance at the cupboard. A slip of paper fell through the crack, and I grabbed it.

The guards called my name again - they used my full name, which both creeped me out and angered me a little, because they'd said it like I was a child or someone under their control. Perhaps I was, but I didn't like it. They each placed a hand on one of my shoulders and marched me away.

I suddenly realised where I was going - they were taking me I the back entrance, where I would meet with Peeta and Effie Trinket and we would take one of those 'cars', to the docking station for the train.

The train station was about the most modern building ever seen in District 12, and only really because it was the only place here that the Capitol always tried to keep clean.

The car journey had mostly been spent in silence. Effie had tittered in about some Capitol delicacy or another, but I just stared out the window and didn't listen. Peeta did the same. He looked like he was holding back wracking sobs, and I wasn't too sure if I was doing too well in that area either.

I wondered what he must've been feeling. His father had come to visit me in that room - he hadn't said much, but after all the kindness he'd given to me in the bakery every other day as I traded him my game, the silence that had settled between us for most of the time felt much less awkward than appreciative, and I could tell he was more sympathetic than pitiful, for which I was glad. On the way out, he told me that he would make sure Prim had enough to eat, and I immediately felt guilty; for both Peeta and his father, because either I would die and Peeta may make it back home, in which case Peeta's father might feel responsible for keeping Prim well-fed, or I would repay him by killing his son, or at least letting him die.

His mother, however, was a foul woman. I knew that deep down, somewhere in the pits of his soul - as awful as it may sound - he must have had some scrap of love for her. But in my opinion, she was an absolutely foul woman. As far as I'd seen, she did nothing but abuse him and scold him unfairly for everything he did wrong. I suppose someone might call it her looking out for him. If I ever had children, I would never treat them like that.

I shook that thought out of my head. I needed to get used to the idea that I wouldn't be living for much longer, much less long enough to have children. And even if I did, I would kill myself first before I brought a child into the mercy of this world.

"Fantastic," I muttered to myself - we were just standing in the station in silence, waiting for someone to come and take us aboard.

I couldn't keep Peeta out of my mind - whenever I thought of him, I couldn't help thinking about that night, when he'd burnt that bread deliberately and tossed it in my direction.

It'd been raining and I was starving - I hadn't caught any game that day, and we were running low on grain. Even Prim's goat had been having a dry season, so we didn't have much milk. I just knew that a few more days like this and we would be done for.

I had taken to what I considered to be a very low stance - begging for scraps and scavenging what I could find from other people's waste. I had gone to the bakery, because I knew that they could afford to throw food away - perhaps tarnished for them, but to us it could mean a full stomach, maybe even until dinner the next day if we thinned it out enough.

But as I'd lifted the lid on their trash can, Peeta's mother had eyed me from the back door and was approaching, with an enraged face I could liken to one of the witches in the fairytales my dad told my when I was little.

She screamed at me, called me a string of abusive beggar-related and Seam-centric insultations, and waved her sweeping brush at me threateningly. I backed away, and she kept her hateful eyes on me until I was at least 20 paces away. Then she huffed and stormed back inside. I looked after her, and I saw Peeta lingering at the door. His eyes were concerned, like he was asking if he was okay. I think he might've been about to step outside when I heard his mother bark at him from the kitchen, and he quickly shuffled away with a bowed head.

"Katniss? Katniss dear, we're boarding the train now, let's get a move on!"

Effie's voice woke me up - I was still standing on the platform.

"What?" I replied, not really listening.

"We're going on the train, now!" she reminded me, with a smile like I wasn't being sent to my grave.

"Oh...right," I muttered, and licked my lips' dryness away. I felt a lurch in my stomach when I realised this would probably be the last time - no, it was almost certain that I wouldn't ever see District 12 again. I kept myself composed for the Prim's sake, even If she wasn't there to see it. I might not have much chance of winning, but I knew damn straight I was going to try, if only for her.

The sun was bright but clouded over, and a large flock of birds distilled from the forest in the distance. I tried to keep that image in my head before the train door slid open, and I was snatched away.


End file.
